Garrus Vakarian (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
calibrating) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2016-02-18 05:04 pm
calibrating) wrote in maskormenacelogs2016-02-18 05:04 pm
Entry tags:
Forget about a dog, fool, he'll shit in the den
WHO: Garry Vakrin calibrating and Comandee Shepurr sassguard
WHERE: Just outside of De Chima
WHEN: Back in Deceeeeemmmber. Just in time for a Christmas miracle.
WHAT: Having a good heart-to-heart over rifles and bullets and other gunhead things.
WARNINGS: Most likely language and such, also guns and weaponry if that bothers you!
What started out as a friendly invite out to the local range turned into yet another side quest for the local Commander Shepard where he listens to one of his crew members whine about life, liberty, and the pursuit of a nice, smooth brandy on a world with food that conspired against his gastronomical tendencies.
Today, however, Garrus had a little bit more on his mind than liquor, a little bit that had been eating away at him for a while and that he needed some guidance on. Who better to ask than the aforementioned Commander who'd helped him (presumably other versions of him) in the past with matters far less inane?
Garrus stands and waits against a crop of trees, makeshift targets set up yards in front of him, and a stash of guns that may raise an eyebrow or two in any other context.
calibrating and Comandee Shepurr sassguardWHERE: Just outside of De Chima
WHEN: Back in Deceeeeemmmber. Just in time for a Christmas miracle.
WHAT: Having a good heart-to-heart over rifles and bullets and other gunhead things.
WARNINGS: Most likely language and such, also guns and weaponry if that bothers you!
What started out as a friendly invite out to the local range turned into yet another side quest for the local Commander Shepard where he listens to one of his crew members whine about life, liberty, and the pursuit of a nice, smooth brandy on a world with food that conspired against his gastronomical tendencies.
Today, however, Garrus had a little bit more on his mind than liquor, a little bit that had been eating away at him for a while and that he needed some guidance on. Who better to ask than the aforementioned Commander who'd helped him (presumably other versions of him) in the past with matters far less inane?
Garrus stands and waits against a crop of trees, makeshift targets set up yards in front of him, and a stash of guns that may raise an eyebrow or two in any other context.